


I Know A Prayer That Never Fails

by JeanieNitro



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale Has a Penis (Good Omens), Bottom Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley Has a Penis (Good Omens), Inappropriate Use Of Prayer, Lingerie, M/M, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Top Aziraphale (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-30
Updated: 2020-08-30
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:15:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,969
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26198437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JeanieNitro/pseuds/JeanieNitro
Summary: Crowley "prays" to his "guardian angel" who helps him learn the value of Temperance. A fun, light-hearted sex romp. Loosely inspired by a fic by sosobriquet, and a present for her as part of the "Choofe Your Faces" Mofu Server Event.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 68
Collections: Choofe Your Faces, Top Aziraphale Recs





	I Know A Prayer That Never Fails

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sosobriquet](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sosobriquet/gifts).
  * Inspired by [with all my heart](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21858568) by [sosobriquet](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sosobriquet/pseuds/sosobriquet). 



"Well well, what have we here?" Aziraphale said in mock surprise as he came into the bedroom.

Crowley was kneeling by the bed, wearing a white dressing gown. His hands were clasped neatly together, elbows resting on the covers in front of him. He turned when he heard Aziraphale, and a smirk lit up his face and turned into a bold grin. "Why, I was just about to go to bed. I'm saying my prayers like a good boy," he said.

"Oh you're a good boy, are you?" Aziraphale said. "Well, go on then, let me hear your prayer."

Crowley turned back to the bed, straightened his posture, clasped his hands together, and began to recite.

_Angel of God,_  


_my guardian dear,_  


_To whom your love_  


_commits me here,_  


_Ever this day,_  


_be at my side,_  


_To light and guard,_  


_Rule and guide._

During the recitation, Aziraphale had stepped closer and let his wings and halo manifest, filling the bedroom with soft golden light. At the end of the prayer, he let his hand rest gently on Crowley’s shoulder. Crowley opened his eyes and looked up at Aziraphale with a cheeky grin on his face.

“Well?”

“A very good prayer, my boy,” Aziraphale said, letting a beatific smile settle on his face.

“Are you my guardian angel?” Crowley asked in a faux-innocent voice.

“Why yes,” Aziraphale said, smiling down at Crowley.

“Are you here to _rule_ and _guide_ me?” Crowley said, licking his lips and looking up lecherously.

“Is that what you need? Is that why you prayed for a guardian angel?” Aziraphale asked, trying not to let his smile slip from _beatific_ into _hopelessly fond_. 

“Yes, please, angel, I’m having such a hard time being good these days. I really just can’t help myself. I need someone to, er, _give me a firm hand_ ,” Crowley said, looking at the rapidly-growing tent in Aziraphale’s trousers and licking his lips again.

“Well, as your guardian angel, it _is_ my duty to give you exactly what you need,” Aziraphale said, cradling Crowley’s face and running his fingers through the soft red hair. “Why don’t you drop that robe for me, hmm?”

Crowley hastens to comply. Underneath the robe he is wearing a strappy black leather harness that stands out against his pale skin. The entire thing makes a giant star, from shoulder to crotch, with a pentagon right over his chest that contains a smaller star, a sort of double pentagram. Underneath the harness he is wearing some black, silky-looking panties that cling to his intimate parts and accentuate his hip bones.

Aziraphale’s breath hitches, and he traces his fingers gently along Crowley’s skin, following the lines and making Crowley shiver. “Oh!” he exclaims under his breath, delighted. “You _have_ been a naughty boy.” He runs a finger up Crowley’s neck, making him swallow. “Luckily I am here now, and I will help you be good.” Crowley’s eyes are wide and he is trembling beneath Aziraphale’s hand, his lips parted slightly. “Tonight I will teach you the lesson of Temperance. You must restrain yourself from completion until I give you the word. Do you understand?”

“I . . . understand,” Crowley whispers so low it’s barely a breath. 

Aziraphale opens his trousers and pulls out his cock, which has become _quite_ hard from the way Crowley looks in that harness. “Now be a good boy and take care of this for me, hmm?”

Crowley looks the way Aziraphale feels when the waiter at the Ritz brings out dessert, and dives onto Aziraphale’s cock without further preamble. He gulps at it in a way that would have choked a lesser being, slurping it greedily and noisily in his haste. Much as Aziraphale likes it, it’s not in keeping with the spirit of the evening, so he digs his hands into Crowley’s hair and pulls back, slowing him down. “Ah ah, remember, Temperance, dear boy,” he says. “I know you are so very eager, but you must control yourself.”

Crowley sits back, properly chastened, and begins again, slower this time, letting his tongue wrap around and contract. It’s one of Crowley’s moves that Aziraphale likes the best, and he groans despite himself. It’s wonderful, the way Crowley’s tongue moves, so completely unlike any of Aziraphale’s human lovers. It makes him shudder and clench his hands in Crowley’s hair. Crowley moans in appreciation. The sight of Crowley, eager and nearly naked beneath him, those beautiful dark straps criss-crossing his pale skin, is so good that Aziraphale comes almost before he’s had the chance to get properly into it, his orgasm catching him by surprise as he thrusts involuntarily a couple times into Crowley’s mouth. Crowley swallows and sits back, forked tongue flickering at the corners of his mouth.

“Very good, dear boy. What an excellent start. But we’re certainly not done yet. Get up on the bed for me, on your back so I can see you.”

Crowley grins and scrambles to comply, draping himself across the bed with artful seduction. “Like this, _angel_?” he says with a sly tone in his voice. 

“Remember, you’re not allowed to come unless I say,” Aziraphale says, advancing towards the bed. Standing by the side of the bed, he grasps one of Crowley’s thighs in his right hand, pushing it upwards and rubbing his thumb appreciatively along it, humming in delight. The silky black panties Crowley is wearing are holding on for dear life as Crowley’s cock strains against them. He nuzzles Crowley’s shapely calf and kisses it gently, taking his time to savor it and watch Crowley’s cock twitch. There’s a whimper from the bed beneath him and he grins, but continues to take his time. “No touching yourself either, although I’m sure you knew that,” he says, as he watches Crowley’s hands clench and unclench, sneaking closer and closer to his crotch.

Crowley makes a high-pitched, _frustrated_ sound, but clenches his hands and holds them still, tongue flickering in and out from between his teeth, considerably thinner and even more serpentine than before.

Aziraphale kisses his way down the inside of Crowley’s leg, nibbling gently with his lips and tongue, until he reaches the lacy edge of the panties. He licks along the edge, where fabric meets skin. He wiggles his tongue under the opening, feeling the roughness of the pubic hair under his tongue. Crowley’s leg, still in his grasp, is completely taut and twitching along with his cock, and there’s an obvious wet spot beginning to spread. Aziraphale rubs Crowley’s perineum through the silky fabric, then takes a moment to suckle along the skin of his balls. 

Crowley is whimpering now, his whole body rigid with the obvious need to wriggle that he’s restraining, head whipping back and forth almost as much as his tongue. Aziraphale slowly stands back up, drawing the panties gently back, up the length of Crowley’s legs and off. “What a good boy you’re being for me. You’re holding so still. But you’re going to need to relax a little.” He sets Crowley’s calf on his shoulder, using his hand to knead Crowley’s thigh. He moves down to Crowley’s arse, then around to his other thigh, feeling the muscles go pliant and soft under his fingers.

“Alright, I think you’re ready,” Aziraphale says. He grabs a pump of lube from the bottle on the nightstand and begins to run slick fingers lightly down the crack of Crowley’s ass. Crowley continues to shudder. “Look at you, so lovely and flushed for me. You’re being very good at not touching yourself. Let’s see if you can keep that up for me, hmm?”

He slides a slippery finger into Crowley, who inhales sharply. He works it in and out gently, rubbing it slowly around Crowley’s insides until Crowley cries out and twitches. He keeps the pace gentle, teasing, feeling Crowley’s muscles relax around his finger, delighting in the shudders and gasps he’s pulling out of his beloved. He uses his other hand to gently stroke Crowley’s inner thigh, gentle and light in all of his movements. Crowley’s prick is bright purple-red now, full and twitching with every breath. Still, Aziraphale is relentless, rubbing his finger over and over the spot inside Crowley.

“Please, angel, ahh!!” Crowley gasps. “I’m gonna — stop, ahh!” Crowley says, and Aziraphale pulls out his finger. 

“Thank you for telling me, love, what a good boy you’re being, since I haven’t given you permission yet. I’ll give you a second, and we’ll keep going.”

After a couple seconds to let Crowley’s arousal simmer down, Aziraphale presses in again, with two fingers this time. He makes his way unerringly to that sensitive spot again, pressing and stroking as dribbles of precome spurt out of Crowley’s prick. He’s trying not to do it _too_ forcefully; he alternates between stroking Crowley’s prostate and scissoring his fingers to further loosen Crowley up. While a handy miracle is always available should they wish to do something in a rush, Aziraphale finds that when he has the time, he prefers taking Crowley apart inch by inch, millimetre by millimetre. It’s such a pleasant experience to see Crowley fall apart for him, writhing with pleasure and smothered in love.

Crowley has to stop Aziraphale twice more on threat of him finishing without permission. By the last time, when Aziraphale is four fingers into the now sloppy mess of Crowley’s ass, there are small, jewel-like tears hanging in the corners of Crowley’s eyes. 

“Please, angel, I don’t think I can last much longer—!” he pleads so prettily. 

“Shhh, love, we’re very close,” Aziraphale says, petting Crowley’s sides. “Just a little bit longer. I’m going to fill you up with my cock now.”

One of Crowley’s tears does fall at that, and Aziraphale makes some comforting shushing noises as he unbuckles his trousers and pulls out his cock. He lubricates himself, and pushes in slowly as Crowley moans, then takes a second to miracle the mess off his hand so that he can reach up to cup the side of Crowley’s face. “There, there, dear boy, we’re almost done.” He rocks in and out of Crowley, feeling each shuddering breath and fragile whimper as Crowley’s body clenches around him.

“Alright, my dear, you may finish now,” he whispers, as he bends Crowley almost in half so that he can press his forehead to Crowley’s. Crowley shudders through a few more thrusts and then and cries out, splattering the both of them with the force of his orgasm. Aziraphale follows not long after, relishing in the twitches he wrings out of Crowley’s sensitive body with his last few thrusts.

They stay like that for a few moments, panting and absolutely boneless, before Aziraphale slips out of Crowley, tucks himself back into his pants and goes to get a washcloth to clean them with. When he returns, Crowley is laying in the exact same position he left him in, a broad, contented grin on his face and one arm flung over his eyes. Aziraphale does his best to clean them up the manual way, but eventually gets tired of trying to get the stains out of Crowley’s lovely harness and vanishes the rest of it with a click of his fingers.

He removes his clothes, folding them neatly and putting them on the chair, and then scoots up onto the bed next to Crowley. He pulls the lanky demon so that Crowley’s head is resting on his chest and he can run his fingers through his soft, red hair, just the way they both like. Crowley nuzzles into his chest with a soft, contented “love you, angel” and proceeds to fall asleep, so Aziraphale dims the bedside light, settles the covers around them so Crowley won’t wake up cold, and pulls out his spectacles and his bedside book, utterly content with the world.


End file.
